


When I explicitly said not to

by BlueKryptonite



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artificial Intelligence, Loneliness, M/M, Narcissism, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-23 12:17:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23111236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueKryptonite/pseuds/BlueKryptonite
Summary: Morty is losing his mind, and Rick's solution is a project he long ago tossed in the pile of rejects. It's this, or seeing the boy spiral out of control. Morty 2.0 is back online.
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

"You could be doing aaaanything else, but you still chose to bother me, right now, when I explicitly said not to. What if I'd been building some explosive, and one small distraction, a minor slip of the hand, and this whole fucking piece of shit continent would be gone? Didn't think about that did you, huh? I-I'm reaaaally beginning to re-evaluate this whole adventuring together thing, if it makes you this god damn clingy. Now g-HEURPH-o paint your nails with Summer or something."  
Morty throws his hands in the air and begins to walk out the garage: "I'm going! Geeze. You-You don't have to be a dick about it! And for your information Summer hasn't been home for weeks, since she's in Paris with the Ferdinands! Sh-shows how much you care. So you could-ca-can just stick your adventures-" Rick presses a button under the lip of his desk, and Morty's sentence gets cut off, as the garage door, he had been standing outside of for a good while already, slams shut.  
"Who the fuck are the Ferdinands?"Rick asks the empty room before deeming it an unworthy question, and turns back to his desk.

He puts on his viser and continues soldering, while gritting his teeth. They had been stuck on Earth for a month by now, avoiding detection from a drug cartel, after a weapons sale went bust. He was fifteen minutes to losing his mind, but his grandson seemed to take it even worse. Summer vacation, combined with this self imposed house arrest, was driving the poor kid to his early grave. While he acted unbothered, he was worried, and kept tabs on the boy. By week three he had noted a dramatic loss of appetite, decrease in personal hygiene and judging by the circles under his eyes poor sleep.

His posture and voice were tired. Like he had just woken up, for weeks. To compensate, the boy had picked up a habit of drinking way too much coffee, to the point of shaking a bit all the time like a traumatized animal.  
Fights between the two of them were the norm now. No conversations, just insults and snide comments.  
If Rick managed to be in bed at human hours, no longer did he hear the badly conceiled sounds of z-grade free internet pornography from the boys room, and correlating activities. The excuses at the breakfast table, of having had a snack before hand, became unconvincing after the third time.  
Even Beth seemed to be catching up to the lies. She probably just thought the kid was having another depressive episode, and his mood would stabilize soon enough. But she wasn't stuck at the house to catch all the new symptoms, when Morty thought no one saw, and let his crazy go wild.  
Rick knew better. Morty had never before stopped taking regular showers, or mumbled to himself at all hours of the day. Singing maybe, sure or an innocent small remark here or there. But this was whole ass conversations. Rick felt like he was starting to distinguish this second Morty in the boys head, and it was a clear secondary persona by now with it's own quirks. He even saw him laugh at his own mumbled joke one day. It was frankly fucking disturbing.

Rick sighs, puts down his project, and reaches for his flask. He had to do something, and quick. A quick shuffle though half sketched out, then abandoned ideas, and he pulls out a single wrinkled and coffee stained paper. The one project he had been at split minds for years. 

Rick belches loudly, and it echos in the quiet garage, as he stares down at the innocent sketch. Paranoid, he looks behind his shoulder. It's stupid, but this perticular invention was teetering at the boundaries of his barely there moral code, and it doesn't sit right with any part of him. God, if Beth found out. He takes a swig and focuses back down.  
On the barely filled out A4, there's a few rough sketches of advanced robotics, and hasty mesh model of Morty's face. This project would do well with being burned, but in the back of his mind he had known this day might come, and hadn't dared destroy all the meticulously collected data. 

He stretches his back in preparation for the long night of work ahead, and reads the hastily jotted down file name on the page.  
'Morty's_Sexuality_Data_collected_ages_13,5-16,75'


	2. The mirror

Morty was fuming as he stomped up the stairs. "Old fucking sime ball," he mumbles to himself as he walks into the bathroom. He'd decided punching walls was pointless as it forced him to go straight back to Rick last time to ask for help with his cracked knuckle. Thoroughly humiliated, he had wanted to be alone, and thus chosen the shower. This had led to the enlightening discovery of the soothing qualities of cold water. It was now a routine. Fight with Rick, take a shower. 

The cold water hits the boy's scowling face. Goosebumps are raised all over his body, along with a violent shudder. He stays still for a long while, letting his teeth clatter, as he faces the shower head like he's sunbathing. He inhales deeply, and splutters for a minute as the water goes all the way up his nose.  
After he's composed, his pose slumps, and he hugs himself. He raises the temperature slowly, and sighs against the water this time managing not to drown himself.  
Sliding a hand up his ribs in soothing circles, he starts: "Just you and me again, huh?"   
"What is it, week four? "  
He scrunches up his toes:" Sure is..."   
"It'll end one day, I promise."  
Morty imagines arms wrapping around him. The ghost touch feels warm, or is it the water? He lifts his hand where he imagines a hand to be, and squeezes the air. "Thanks," he whispers and gives the room a faint smile that fades as fast as it appears.

He quickly washes up, and steps out of the shower. Toweling himself dry while he faces the mirror above the sink, and stops to stare at...his face. It's a painful reminder of the best day of his life. Of the one thing he longed for above all else about their adventures: one more shot to see more of it. Hundreds more.

It was just supposed to be a regular adventure: formulaic in its unpredictability. A few fights to get the blood pumping, a couple of mind blowing visuals, and a grounding drunken rant from Rick. This time tho Rick had fucked up everything and it's mother. From the get go, they had been running for their lives, after some big shot didn't like a mere earthling dispelling the foundations of his religion by shutting down its God's power supply. In retrospect it was a very silly religion (who has their supposed deity plugged into a standard electric grid?), but it still wasn't a very good start for their day. So they ran from the priests, who were waving pistols, and trying not to trip on their garbs as they cried in existential horror. Rick shot a portal to a huge alien casino and they blended in with the crowd like nobody's business. But apparently it was somebody's business, and they were forced to participate in the gambling, when security caught up with them. Rick as a sign of good faith, let Morty pick the numbers in a game of roulette. Plainly put, he did bad, and this caused Rick to start on a tirade about odds, and the idiocy of gambling superstitions. This loudly proclaimed opinion, gathered first murderous looks, and then began a full out brawl at the roulette table. The priests following the commotion, were again hot on their heels. Going through a multitude of portals, and not being able to shake off their chasers, Rick started cursing and yelled: "Let's see how they like dealing with a whole herd of annoying assholes!", shot one last portal, and yanked Morty along.   
He barely had time to react to the chaos that they brought with them, as he was struck dumb by his surroundings. He stood there blind to the small war occuring between the priests and Rick-officers.   
All he could see was hundreds of him looking right at him. It was the most surreal experience, yet felt so right. The other Morty's were a varying mix of curious, worried and nervous. He could see tails, horns and all manner of outrageous costumes on them. All of them with the familiar well kept soft curls, plump faces with cute round cheeks, and thick lashes to peer under from. The air permeated with the faint scent of their favourite soap. In that moment he felt part of something larger, like he was no longer alone. Never to be alone again. He might have wept a little but no one noticed so it didn't count anyway.

Too soon they were dragged in front of a council to explain their crimes, and portaled back home.  
His new found knowledge left him reeling. He had never felt so alone. No amount of begging or bargaining could convince Rick to take him back. The man said he found the place creepy, and was like bedrock in his opinion. The Citadel became just a daydream to Morty the memory slowly slipping through his fingers the longer he was awake. But every time he looked in a damn mirror, he was right back there. The reflection taunting him with what he couldn't have.

Morty traces his outline on the glass. He imagines what it would be like living among all those other Morty's. Complaining about their Rick's and sharing hair care secrets. Laying about, waiting to be needed on the next grand adventure to smuggle guns, questionable chemicals and alien drugs.   
There's a familiar burning at the pit of Morty's stomach. He grips the sink with white knuckles. He takes a peek in the mirror and sees reddened cheeks. It's not all hair braiding he imagines himself doing with the other Morty's. Guilty bubbles boil in his veins but they can't stop his thoughts. His knuckles turn an ugly shade of greenish white as his breathing becomes ragged. Behind his closed eyelids all he sees is soft hair flowing through his fingers as he brushes it carefully to not upset the sensitive scalp and delighted moans from the boy under his ministrations. Someone appears behind him to return the favor and it's like fingers would actually be at his scalp massaging away reality. and he can't hold his hand at the sink anymore. Letting the towel fall he reaches for his painfully erect cock and cries in relief.

**Author's Note:**

> To clarify, this is a Morty x Robot Morty fic.  
> Updates as soon as they're done cooking!


End file.
